That Which Should Not Be Possible (But It Is)
by Az The Dragon
Summary: Proof is all that matter in an investigation. However, sometimes, a grain of belief towards the words of a strange teenager is needed to get to the point in a case of a serial killer. (AKA: what happens when two completely different universes meets and you want to keep them as canon and as sensate as it can be). Title, summary, rating, and genre might change in the future.


**A/N:** Friendly reminder that my works are not betaed. Errors and weird things will happen, so forgive me for that.

 **Quick A/N regarding this "fic":** at the moment, this is a short. Nothing more than a beginning to a possible fic I might or might not continue when I'm not working on my other stuff (which takes priority)

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"Alright," the man at the table said, pressing the tip of his pen on the paper. He put so much strength in that gesture that he almost tore a hole through the thin material. "What is your name?"

The boy sitting opposite of him sighed both in annoyance and exasperation as he leaned into the back of his chair. "Didn't we go through this already?" He asked, letting his head fall backwards and casting his strange green eyes onto the dull ceiling. "Are you people deaf or something?"

The man gave a sigh of his own. One that was deep, long and full of tired frustration. "True, but this is the procedure, and the more you refuse to go with it, the longer we'll both have to stay here."

A frown appeared on the young face. It became deeper as time passed and the white hair did nothing but strengthen it. "Look," the boy said after a while, straightening up and returning his unnerving emerald gaze onto the man in front of him. "I get that you only want to make sure I'm saying the truth. Really, I do. But this is the sixth time I've been asked these questions, and you're the third person asking them. I'm tired, bored and hungry. Unless we progress with this, I will walk out of that door in the next five minutes to find myself something to eat."

Silence fell between the two and the room seemed to lose what little warmth it had when this whole interrogation failure had started. The boy's harsh glare was not helping at all, either, because it was as unnerving as the stare of a dead man. Just more lively, if that was even possible.

"Alright... Danny," the man looked down at the scattered papers laying on the table, unable to keep staring into the eyes of the teen. "I'll see... what I can do."

After that simple admission, the boy's glare disappeared and he smiled. An actual, honest smile that threw the man off guard. Until now it had felt like the kid had been toying with him, like a proverbial cat with a mouse, but the small gesture had completely changed the situation.

The frustration, the annoyance, the shivering cold... they were all gone and replaced by relief and something that could vaguely be described as 'peacefulness'.

"You stay here," the man said once he had collected all the papers into a fairly neat pile in his hands. He cast a glance towards Danny and wondered why the kid wasn't shivering with only a pair of skinny black pants and a dark gray hoodie covering him. "I'll talk to my superiors."

Danny's smile seemed to widen, going from being simply honest to one of happiness. "Sure thing, Mr..?" There his expression changed again, becoming confused as he tried to remember a name that had been said while he made himself purposely distracted. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier."

"Flack," the man replied with a hint of a smile. "Detective Donald Flack."

The boy's eyes seemed to shine strangely into the artificial light of the room as he recognized the name. "Right," he said with a clap of his gloved hands. "Thank you, Mr. Flack."

Donald gave a curt nod and quickly left the room, glad to be away from the unnerving gaze and back into a more tolerable temperature. He crossed a few people roaming the hallway, careful to not bump into their distracted walking, and grasped at the handle of a door located not too far from the one he had just closed.

"Mac," he greeted as soon as he stepped into the new room. "Any chance of finding a spare heater for that room? It's freezing in there! I know they are still working on the heater to fix it, but this is bordering absurd..."

The mentioned man looked away from the one-way mirror that gave him a sight of the interrogation room and looked at the frazzled detective. A small smile escaped his usually stoic features, hinting at his amusement. "So, what do you think?" He asked, ignoring his colleague's protests about the temperatures. He tilted his head towards the white haired boy sitting in the other room. "Is he as unnerving as the others say?"

Detective Flack straightened his back and looked as professional as a man could be after coming out of a refrigerator cell. He walked to the nearby table and threw the papers on top of it with a frustrated sigh. "Maybe more, Mac," he confirmed, running a hand through his hair. "The kid... Danny if that's his real name... You should talk to him yourself."


End file.
